


Sharon's 13th Assignment

by VoyageBoots



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoyageBoots/pseuds/VoyageBoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Interviewing with the CIA goes well enough. Sharon’s done this once before, fresh out of undergrad and not sure what she was doing with her life beyond the knowledge that a regular 9 to 5 job would kill her with monotony. She had never even heard of SHIELD back then. Now it is 6 years later, most of the people she knows are turncoats or dead or both and it’s entirely possible she might still have yet to figure out what she is doing with her life."</p><p>Or what Sharon did after the events of CA: The Winter Soldier, (Joined the CIA, blew up some stuff, counted sheep and found herself a new normal somewhere along the way).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blunt the knives, Smash the plates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlphaFlyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFlyer/gifts).



> Prompt was "Sharon Carter at the CIA. Optional: Melinda's mom".

There is a terrible moment when it feels as if the world is moving in slow motion and nothing happens, the case thudding into the ground, the man with the gun turning to fire at her. Sharon can barely breathe for this was her last possible plan and she’d really like to not die today, it has been a bad enough day without adding her death to it.

 Then the case explodes, -and dear God those chemicals are unstable when mixed-, and it is all but over and now Sharon really can’t breathe because of all the smoke and debris flying about.

* * *

Interviewing with the CIA goes well enough. Sharon’s done this once before, fresh out of undergrad and not sure what she was doing with her life beyond the knowledge that a regular 9 to 5 job would kill her with monotony. She had never even heard of SHIELD back then. Now it is 6 years later, SHIELD turned out to be hosting Hydra, most of the people she knows are turncoats or dead or both and it’s possible she might still have yet to figure out what she is doing with her life.

  The process is simple. You submit your application, do a phone interview, permit the CIA to contact anyone you’ve ever met, accept a plane ticket to an unknown destination, let a guy with a black car drive you to an even more unknown location, and then you play nice through in-person interviews, medical exams and three hour polygraph tests. Simple. The CIA then sends those who do well to a year long training program at a base called Camp Peary in Williamsburg, VA. Also known as “The Farm”. Sure it’s a little odd to let it be that well known, but anyone stupid enough to attack the training site of the CIA, full of operatives, deserves the mayhem that will wreck their lives immediately thereafter.

 Sharon’s phone interview went well, she managed to read a book on the plane, and now she’s enjoying the oh so scenic drive to unknown location number two in a car with probably illegally tinted windows.

 “Even if you could see out the windows it’s really not that scenic” the driver pointed out.

 “That’s kinda creepy”  Sharon can’t help but comment.

 “Everyone is thinking one of two things right now – either how scenic the route must be – or about how terrified they are of this interview. I’m thinking you are in the first group, your interviews are likely to go well then.” And with that he stopped the car.

 The building itself looks like a hotel conference center, the view out the window could be any state in America except Hawaii – the plane ride was not long enough for that. Six others candidates are there, everyone has these alpha-numerics on their nametags instead of names. There’s no awkward mingling, but an uncomfortable moment when they are dividing up into orientation groups based on departments –

 “Those with a Beta-Gamma designation are going next door” Sharon thinks they are likely the technology branch, engineers have that look about them, also one of them might legitimately have a pocket protector. “Omega-Tau designations are going to be across the hall – you guys have a language test to take first then someone will be in” Analysts most likely, and then the man in charge reads off her number

 “And Alpha-Bravo 3-7-9-0 you’ll be with me” And it’s clear she’s going for wet works and every recruit is staring. At least the interview shouldn’t be awful right?

 The driver had totally lied. Her first time doing this her polygraph interview was 3 hours long, and the questions about past sexual encounters were the most awkward. According to her watch they are on hour five now, and have not even gotten to the sex questions yet.

 Which granted, SHIELD kind of took over her life so there weren’t a whole lot of new things to report there, but it is all kinds of creepy if they know that. Also, the whole ‘so it turns out you were working for the bad guys’ puts a damper on things.

  “You’ve interviewed for the CIA before. Why did you choose SHIELD last time?”

 “My grandmother was ill, SHIELD operates primarily domestically and I felt it was a better fit, particularly with my lack of travel experience.”

 “And how has that changed?”

 “Well, my grandmother died. And before you bring it up, yes I have a great aunt who is not in the best of health, but I’ve made my peace with that. Also, I found out about this whole agent thing she used to do so she really cannot guilt trip me like my grandmother could. I’ve also gotten a lot more travel experience and in the last few years I’ve picked up several language skills.”

             “And why did you want to work here, after the shit storm that was your last employment? Haven’t you lost enough people to want out by now?” The question is meant to be unsettling, and that helps Sharon stay calm strangely enough. She’s already been over the fall of SHIELD in her head a dozen times, and twice in confidential senate hearings. Plus, Sharon’s already noticed her name and information missing among the files made public, her interest in working for the CIA is mutual.

 “I lost a lot of people yes, but I am excellent at this type of work and I want to continue doing it.”

 

* * *

Sharon’s almost five years older than the average age of her classmates at the Farm, but she’s got almost 6 years of SHIELD experience they lack, four of which were active agent years at SHIELD. Sure, it is an advantage in some areas, but it also means while they learn how to do something she has to unlearn the old way and relearn the new.

With everything that has changed and gone unexpectedly, the familiar feel of a gun in her hands in reassuring. Range time is her calm time, where everything narrows down to just the feel of the gun the center of the target. Sharon realizes she might have misrepresented her skills with a weapon by signing up for many range hours instead of the test to get out of them, she's shooting at her target when she notices the look of astonishment on her instructors face. The giant smile on her face isn’t helping matters but honestly, gun ranges feel like home.

 “Most people who sign up for all the hours need the extra practice.” The nameless instructor pointed out, CIA people seemed to be keen on not sharing names.

 “No one ever said I couldn’t?”

 “You should know enough to use your flexible time to take practice in things you need.”

 “I need range time?” Sharon winced but it was worth a shot. The instructor looked like he was getting a migraine. The fact that two of her classmates had clearly never fired a gun before probably wasn’t helping matters.

 “Take the test to get cleared on guns tomorrow.”

 “But –“ Sharon started to protest but the instructor continued talking - Well, there went her calm time.

 “Take the test, and I’ll get you into the bazookas and rocket launchers course instead.” Sharon was speechless for once, unable to stop the grin from widening.

* * *

Subtle rumors go around about what is supposed to happen– new agents will get picked out of their beds in the middle of the night, wake up in an unfamiliar location with no resources and have to make their way back to the Farm. The rumors, which are more likely carefully released intel, suggest that it’s within the US, this time.

 Sharon wakes up to strangers in her room and panics when her reach for her gun yields nothing. She comes up swinging even as her brain processes that she’s with the CIA now, no personal guns allowed at the Farm. The knowledge does not help with the adrenaline. There are 4 attackers and she makes a literal dent, as she shoulder checks someone into the wall. Someone’s yelling “Stand down!” but she’s not sure who. It ends with a sedative that leaves Sharon waking up in the infirmary, one bed over from a non trainee agent with a broken arm. The evening does not improve from there, Sharon has the dubious honor of additional pysch sessions in her future. When she’s done with getting yelled at, she’s directed to the rec room to wait for everyone else to get back.

 “Hey! Thought I’d be all alone in here waiting, Jeong Lee, was two down from you at the gun range.” She introduces herself “Sharon right?”

 “yeah” Sharon’s so not in the mood for this, she’s already been yelled at, and now stuck waiting until everyone is in. Jeong is pretty short, and hopped up on adrenaline she looks rather like a hyperactive teenager.

 “Man, this is insane. I had to use the bathroom, woke up in the middle of the night. But I get in there and there’s a spider, and I hate them passionately, so I go back to grab a shoe and then I hear voices and the door opens. I hit one guy with the shoe,  throw the lamp at another it shattered big time let me tell you, and managed to knee the third in the solar plexus before anyone managed to say 'Stand down'. ” And then she must get a good look at Sharon “And you did not stand down did you? Damn.”

 Sharon shakes her head, the blossoming bruises tell their own story. But something has rattled loose, maybe from all the adrenaline and fighting and she admits “I used to be SHIELD, I’ve got some lingering issues.”

 But Jeong doesn’t freak out or ask dumb questions like Sharon’s been avoiding the subject in fear of. Instead she just looks at her, eyes knowing. “You get to take again or?”

 “Counts as a fail. I get extra pysch time instead.”

 “Well then, maybe you’ll finally find a decent sofa – I swear they spent all their money on guns, this is not a rec room”

 “Don’t diss the guns”

 And it takes four hours for anyone else to make it back but much less than that for Sharon to make a friend.

* * *

            One of the first things Sharon had noticed about her fellow CIA agents is that many of them are women. Maybe it’s just at the Farm, but Sharon’s suspecting it will hold true back at HQ as well. SHIELD had always been a boy’s club. There are a decent number of women working for SHIELD but mostly as analysts and techs. The active agents included only a few, though no less badass for the scarcity. Sure, the deputy director was a woman, but if the rumors are to be believed Coulson had become the new director anyway. CIA has 3 of the top 5 positions filled by women. Agents had been of both genders since the 50s, women recruited out of the secretary pool leading the way, before the advantages of female agents even became clear.

             One of which was the fact that no one looked twice at a woman carrying a purse full of items – making smuggling items and technology far easier, as well as all the extra opportunities to disguise accessories. A fact that the CIA clearly made full use of judging by the collection at the front of the room.

 “Pretty girls get all the coolest gadgets” Anshel said seriously gazing at the assortment of things. Anshel had made waves as the last recruit to make it back – a long story that involves a llama.

 “Women, Jesus haven’t you learned not to be offensive yet?” Jeong sounds more exasperated than angry, despite the way she’d taken down Anshel during sparring yesterday for similar remarks. They both had bruises but she’d clocked him one right across the face. Jeong Lee might be the shortest recruit but was by no means the weakest.

 “If I say women instead of girls can I dress up in drag and get the cool gadgets?” Anshel countered, not looking away from the table covered in what at first glance would be jewelry.

Sharon’s not usually one for jewelry, it’s just one more thing to keep track of and she has enough trouble in the early mornings already. But the table of gadgets in front of her is well on its way to changing her mind.

  “Dibs on the pin camera and computer bracelet.” Sharon claimed. 

 “You can’t call dibs-!” Jeong protested

 “Jealous?” Sharon bantered back.

 “Nope, because I am pretty sure that makeup compact is also a computer” Jeong noted.

 “No way!”  Anshel could barely contain his excitement.

 “Yes way, in fact yes in many ways. And really Anshel, learn to assimilate language patterns faster, perhaps then we’ll find you some more gender appropriate shiny of your very own. Though your offer of drag will be noted in your file. Now what have Carter, Shapiro and Lee missed in their excitement?” Their instructor for the day, yet another clearly fake named Agent Smith challenged the rest of the room.

 “The bag itself isn’t just for holding – the dimensions are just a bit wrong” Jason Eames, destined for the tech division, spoke up.

 “It is portable mass spectrometer inside a briefcase. The outer compartment is sealed externally, samples can be inserted through the handle, and results will appear via Bluetooth on a linked device.” Smith explained.

 “Not to voice disbelief, but there’s no way. Airports are just beginning to have them and they are definitely not that small.” Murphy Cole or maybe Cole Murphy, Sharon still hadn’t figured out which order his names went, did in fact voice his disbelief. “The barrier to making them smaller is stability, you can’t just miniaturize it.”

 Agent Smith smiled, “As CIA agents, you will have access to tech way before the general public. And overall, a mass spectrometer briefcase is relatively stable, just don’t do anything stupid.”

 “Define stupid” Boleslav Smith questioned, who Sharon had first thought was very thorough but was beginning to suspect just had a well-developed sarcasm mechanism.

 “Do you really need a definition, Boleslav? Stupid like when you were fifteen and built a Moltov cocktail out of things in your high school” Instructor Smith calmly retorted.

 “Shit man. The CIA knows everything” Boleslav looks more amused than threatened.

 “How do you make a bomb in a high school? Were you in a special school?” Seema Indu on the other hand was thorough enough to want to know everything. She had admitted to joining the CIA because she wanted to know more.

 And that leads to the best afternoon of classes at the Farm yet, explosives and all the bizarre things you can use to make things go boom. Eames loses an eyebrow but it was in Anshel’s words, “Totally worth it”.

 Increased therapy time is hell. Nevertheless, Sharon makes it through two weeks of bonus therapy time. Sharon only loses her temper with it couple times. Then one morning, after the session ends shorter than normal, Sharon gets directed next door. There’s a woman waiting at a table for her, and she gestures at the seat next to her.

 “Ma’am?”

 “Oh don’t ma’am me, I’m retired. It’s just May now.”

 “Sharon Carter” she offers, the CIA has yet to train her out of offering her name.

 “Come sit. We’re going to go through your sessions and I’m going to teach you how to interpret psych evals”

 It’s a humbling process listening to herself, especially when they make it all the way back to her polygraph interview. But May is interesting to listen to and decent at explanations. 

  _“I lost a lot of people. I am excellent at this type of work and I want to continue doing it.”_

“Right here – you say ‘I’ not ‘we’ or ‘they’ that shows you’ve processed it, not passing it off or deflecting the question and it also shows you are not loyal to them, you are thinking as a person… Note you don’t say this is the only thing you are good at, which shows desperation something dangerous, but that this is the preferred option… Anyway you pass muster. You’re back on once a week for therapy time. Just don’t break anymore arms.”

 “Ma’am?” Sharon feels raw after going through all the footage, and thrown by the sudden levity.

 “I have a daughter” May offers unexpectedly “She works for SHIELD. She’s fine, she was off on assignment when it blew to pieces, though she really should call home more. But I know more than a little about SHIELD. It’ll take time to work through it, it’s never any easier to lose people you care about. So you go to therapy, and you get through it. And one day it’ll feel – not easier, but less like it is the end of you.” May stares at her a long moment then finishes with “Now scoot, you’re late for lunch.”

 Sharon goes. Anshel greets her from the table full of them “How’s not being a crazy person today?”

 “Much better. I met a retired agent today, and I’m done with all the extra sessions.”

 “I didn’t know agents even could retire” Eames pondered.

 “Well, paperwork wise we all have to have 401ks, we’d stand out as unusual otherwise” Seema pointed out.

 “Please tell me someone else fills out all the forms for that” Jeong

 

* * *

There is no formal graduation ceremony from the farm. Just the casual posting of assignments. Sharon’s back to DC along with a handful of people from her class. She’ll be using the DC office as a home base and making operations from there for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - that's how the actual interview process goes for the CIA, at least a couple years back anyway. Sadly, I can say no more about my source for that.


	2. I go walking in my sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon arrives at the US Embassy in London with minimal hassle but much jetlag.
> 
> “Have you anything to declare?” 
> 
> “No.”

Wednesday morning had seen Sharon arrive at work as normal only to find out she was shipping out for an extended op that afternoon. She’d managed all the usual paperwork and to duck home to throw out the contents of her fridge but she’s pretty sure she forgot to not leave dishes in the sink, or move her wet towels off the floor of the bathroom. This happened on her last assignment too, only that time she left bananas on the counter – for two weeks. In an apartment with the a/c turned off. The possibility of having to bleach all her abandoned dirty dishes cannot be as bad as those bananas were.

 “Buying large quantities of bleach is a suspicious behavior flag, Sharon. You should know much more efficient ways to dispose of a body and bloodstains by now, write up a 2 page memo on the options.” had been her supervisors passing comment the next day.

 “You killed someone without me?” Anshel, from her Farm year, might never be cured of making inappropriate comments.

 “My neighbors are going to kill me if I don’t get the smell of rotting fruit out.” Sharon had protested, already starting to list disposal methods in her head. Just another Monday.

(It’s not that Sharon is completely and totally incapable of managing her apartment, but the Helicarrier lifestyle had some perks, like not having to buy more than one banana at a time and the inability to take dishes outside the mess.)

 The way it worked, at least for Sharon, she wouldn’t put it past the CIA to have different multiple outfitting techniques, was fairly simple. Day to day show up like a normal job. Check for assignments twice a day with the support division. This would be her 13th assignment, so it was starting to get familiar again. Upcoming assignments influenced her day to day work, mostly language packets. Even once you learned a language you weren’t done – there were always more dialects to recognize, more bad accents to practice.

 “A stoned college backpacker mangles the French very differently than a housewife trying to be fancy!” her Farm instructor used to shout in exasperation. Sharon’s language focus has been mainly eastern Europe languages, Russian, with Ukranian and half a dozen other less popular ones besides. Further, she’s been enjoying the history, political climate briefings, and culture wiki on Belarus for the last week so it was not much of a surprise to find a ticket to Belarus this morning. Yesterday morning? She knew the assignment was coming, just not the particulars like the fact that her flight left in six hours.

 Overseas operations had some complications – mainly flying through normal airport security without setting off every alarm ever. Sure, there are more than a dozen ways to beat security, or better yet don’t fly commercial, but most of those ways increase risk and lower the passing establishment of your character. Simple is best, please ignore the 6’4” African American male operative who likes to fly as an Asian grandmother with a walker, stick to easy to recall behavior and always choose the option that enhances your cover. So commercial flights, no more than 6oz liquids and let them x-ray all your stuff. The obvious solution to security is to mail ahead all your gear say to a building, like an embassy that is immune to all the laws, using a service that is way underfunded and overworked and unlikely to care if they do scan it. Thank you international mail.

 And then there was Tech division, the great outfitters and take apart-ers, who seemed to live for complications. Their main job, at least as far as Sharon could figure out, was not implementing things for operatives to use, but rather to disassemble and figure out how other people’s technology worked. Outfitting agents was a standard procedure that most viewed as a waste of time that could be better spent.

 “Assignment 3A23kd2 – mail box to London, whatcha got for me?” Sharon greeted the bored tech specialist waiting at the desk. Only one from her year had gone on to Tech, and Jason complained bitterly about “the hall monitor nature” of checking out gear when many more interesting things existed in the labs. Sharon wouldn’t know, she’d been down in the labs once or twice, but dismantled circuitry never held much for her.

 “Standard kit, 2 guns, a couple handfuls of bugs, two buttonhole cameras and some odds and ends. Don’t lose anything. Report any issues at the conclusion of your assignment. Initial here. “

“Thanks. Is that a Spec briefcase?”

 “Yes, and really someone ought to come up with a better name by now…”

 Before the geek could get completely distracted Sharon asked “What’s the rounds in the guns sized?”

 “40 mm but it’s a prototype”

  “Oh no way! Sweet.” Sharon enthused, shiny guns man.

 “Do well and we’ll consider letting you keep it” the specialist joked, and as Sharon smiled he added “You can carry it in DC with a civilian permit, just lean toward using a more standard gun in anything that local police will deal with.” Ok, apparently not joked Sharon corrected in her head. Wicked.

 Sharon arrives at the US Embassy in London with minimal hassle but much jetlag.

 “Have you anything to declare?”

 “No.”

* * *

The assignment itself is simple enough. Sharon needs to make contact with an agent known just as Marcus, who is the head operative for all Russian/Easter European ops. Then provide support, check out a couple locations, and use her geeky briefcase spectrometer to confirm or deny biowarfare material being moved through one of the main cities of Belarus. Sharon is supposed to stay on however long is needed to help Marcus with other operations.

 Her gear had made it to London just fine, and she’d smuggled it along with her into Belarus. Her cover was simple enough, early thirties life crisis led to blogging career, American traveling to the old homeland of her forefathers, obsessed with her camera. Fake-Sharon, also known as Susan, came complete with her own temporary apartment and clothes. Susan seemed to like purple, and had terrible taste in terms of in-flight novels. Real-Sharon possibly needed to get better at grabbing things last minute. Or at least giving her covers better reading preferences.

Poor taste in literature aside, everything was going smoothly and her keys seemed to work just fine.

  “Hi mom, it’s Susan. Just got in to my apartment that sublet one I sent you pictures of last Wednesday?” The apartment is potentially full of bugs, until she does her own sweep she won’t know. Even then, she might not trust it. The phone has excellent encryption though, no one is tapping that line.

 “Confirmed Carter. Glad you made it in. Marcus should be meeting you in a couple days, keep checking the drop, get used to the city. Get familiar with the warehouse district if you can. “

Which makes for these extremely awkward conversations. Sharon’s fine at thinking on her feet, it’s the not cracking up that proves more challenging. ‘Wednesday’ is her code word for no trouble, if she’d said ‘Saturday’ someone would have been scrambled to her location, ‘sublet’ means she’s somewhat secure.

 “Aww poor cat, I miss him too. Feed him some tuna for me. You wouldn’t believe how nice this fall looks! Going to have to take my camera out tomorrow and take some photos for everyone back home.”

“Target Helo should be meeting someone in a restaurant, see if you can get photos. And the apartment should look nice, people are going to make assumptions no matter what your cover is. Remember the real question is not how to be incognito but what do you want them to believe about you. Next check in is in two days.”

“Love you too mom.” The apartment really is nice though, the last time she had lived undercover was for SHIELD, down the hall from Steve. That place had been a mess. But this, this was nice couch looking out the large windows, full sized bed in a room with framed paintings. Next on her list was investigating the kitchen, and then she’d sweep for bugs.

* * *

The apartment came up clean, even inside the shiniest coffee machine Sharon had ever seen. Sharon then headed out to eat out, maybe hit a bar. Her cover was a traveling blogger. Establishing cover meant being seen out and about. Dining alone makes Sharon miss her old friends. Back in her SHIELD days she used to go out with Maxine, “call me Max or face violence” on their rare off nights, shooting the breeze about anything and everything. Usually whatever betting pool was going around.

 “You should be happy! How many people get to say they provided protection and surveillance for Captain America?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just – I want the assignment because the higher ups think I am the best possible agent for it. Not because I’m young and female – “

“Ha! Like anyone’s managed to cash in the bets on who Steve Rogers finds attractive yet, let alone Fury and the elite”

What Sharon doesn’t voice is what she suspects is the most likely albeit cynical reason, that Sharon has some tenuous connection to one of the few people Steve trusts in the modern world. Trust, it always comes down to trust.

“I’m still betting on bisexual – I’m telling you I saw him checking out Jones’ ass”

“And I still say you’re crazy. It’s well documented he was in love with that girl Peggy”

“In a time when it was illegal to admit otherwise!” Sharon’s effusive arm gesture almost takes out the people in the booth behind them.

Max refuses to admit defeat and changes the subject instead. “Anyway, what’s the new fake apartment like?”

“Gods, I can never invite him in, only one room actually got furniture and it might be the most boring place I ever lived. I’m supposedly a nurse, I told you that right? Weird hours, easy clothes, instinctive for him to see me if he needs help, plenty of good excuses. But in reality I just hang out there until I see he’s going in or out then I make up some lame excuse and hallway tag him. It’s like the freshman undergrad dorm stalking I never did in the first place!”

“Maybe that’s why you’re stuck doing it now, the universe has a comic level of foolish stalking everyone has to undergo.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already wasted yours on that motorbike, I swear every picture you’ve uploaded in the last month has the bike in it.”

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s a sexy sexy bike. Go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“Come again?” Sharon didn’t think even being sober would make that non sequitur make sense.

“Go grocery shopping tomorrow with one of those big reusable bags. I’ll meet you in the store parking lot with library books and an old ps2 with games. Throw a layer of groceries on top and then you’ll have entertainment for your stalking.” Max waved her arms in a ta-da gesture.

“Sometimes I think you may even be a better shield agent when you’re drunk”

Hindsight, a career change and what feels like a lifetime later will tell her that Fury’s trust issues had trust issues. Maybe that’s why she was assigned to play neighbors with Steve – because Fury knew if things happened he’d likely end up there himself. But that’s assuming he trusted her. (Max had trusted Shield and ended up dead for it, but that is something Sharon doesn’t let herself think about).


	3. (Not) Your Peggy Sue

Sharon loves Belarus. No bad guys to hit with briefcases sure, but really she’s not like some relatives she could name, she’s happy with simple plans.

Belarus is full of hikers and gorgeous mountains and little restaurants. Susan’s work is easy, wander around, take photos, talk to people. Post a few photos on a blog, mention things she’s seen. Sharon’s actual work goes just about as well, wander behind suspected persons of interest, take samples at locations they go to, gossip to the locals about what else they get up to. Run the samples through her briefcase, keep track of what they show where.

So far she has not much, no confirmed samples matching dirty bombs at any of the sites she’s been to, but some ordinary things that taken together with other sites start looking suspicious.

She’s met the head agent Marcus, he’s very laid back all things considered, and Sharon wonders how much of that is an act. Marcus is focused on gathering information on the relations between Belarus, Ukraine and Russia.

Russia and Belarus stayed tight after independence, but Ukraine’s been pulling away and Russia is pushing back. Belarus depends on Russia still for economic and political resources. Despite Belarus’s independence from Russia well over a decade ago, 80% of their economy relies solely on maintaining a good relationship. Russia would like Ukraine to fall into line, “accidents” keep occurring of a nature where people end up dead.

Intelligence suggests that Russia is going to make a larger scale move toward Ukraine but agents haven’t been able to report anything specific from inside Russia, hence Marcus and Sharon poking around other countries bordering Ukraine. This particular city has rail lines that go south down into Ukraine with minimal security, making them the likely means of transport but with no time frame Sharon’s hoping to find the bombs before they are moving.

* * *

Sharon’s not actually related to her great-aunt Peggy. Sharon doesn’t even know Peggy as an agent – she knows her as stories of a mischievous teen who led adventures. Peggy was her grandma’s childhood friend, four years older but always up for playing cops and robbers –

“Peggy never wasted much time pining after boys like most of the older girls” Sharon’s grandma always recalled with laughter. “She used to let me tag along with her, we’d tell everyone we were sisters.” She’d say fondly. Sharon’s mom grew up with Peggy being a byline for bizarre ideas and scrappy brilliance.

 “We stayed in touch, letters mostly, as we got older – your great grandma and grandpa moved us all out to the country after the war started, I was still young then but Peggy was finally growing up – I thought it so unfair that she got to join the resistance teens but I had to go to the countryside. “ Sharon’s grandma had moved to America in her 20s, where she’d met granddad.

“I must have been about 15 when she moved and took that secretary job in the US, she wouldn’t have been more than 20, boldly striking out on her own. Your great grandma and great grandpa were so tired of hearing about how Peggy was doing this and that, that they finally let me go stay with family in Virginia, that was where I met your great grandfather.” Her great grandpa had been a Carter. 

“When I wrote Peggy to tell her I was engaged to a man named Carter she must have laughed so hard – they’re no relation at all but it amused us.”  Sharon’s met Peggy a couple times as a child, more as a teen, it was always a letdown to her – Peggy wasn’t the valiant adventurer but rather an old lady with a walker and later stuck in a bed. Every holiday they’d bring Peggy round for supper, most Sundays too.

“Peggy hasn’t much family of her own,” her mom had explained once “your grandmother doesn’t talk about it but I think Peggy lost a young man in the war before she met her husband. The husband died before you were born, and their two kids were actually from his first wife, one son died soldiering. So it’s up to us to keep her included.” Peggy’s other stepson was well known to Sharon, Uncle Rick was a bit of an adrenaline junkie and traveled a lot. His son Jim was her cousin. They used to tell each other they’d get married and go on adventures of their own one day. Sharon’s not sure she’ll ever settle down, but Jim went ahead and got married, over in London, to a very lovely man.

Joining shield and finding out great aunt Peggy was actually rather infamous in certain circles had been a shock. When Peggy heard Sharon had joined, Peggy had started telling story after story – often remembering things late in the night and calling her up anyway. If Sharon ever meets Tony Stark she’s going to blackmail him with the things she knows about his Dad and early childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy Sue is an old love song by Buddy Holly.


	4. Should I stay or should I go now?

Sharon loves Belarus.

 Marcus takes her to the shooting range, laughs at her dumbing down her shots.  

 “Shouldn’t I try and not risk cover like that?” She points out.

“Nah, this is Belarus, everyone owns guns here” It is true, visiting usually involves pulling out weapons to show off. Sharon had almost had a heart attack when the neighbor lady who invited her in for cookies pulled out an automatic. “Besides, surely you had hunting back home? We’ll get you a rifle, something anyone would have”

Sharon’s weakness has always been gun ranges. The one here is set up looking out toward the mountains, and it’s a fine way to spend a Saturday afternoon. They go for lunch afterwards, sitting outside on chairs among families relaxing. Sharon’s discovered Russian pelmeni dumplings taste way better than any American version she’s tried before. Bizarrely, Marcus has spent the last twenty minutes extolling how Russia’s actions toward Ukraine are not really so awful, despite all intelligence reports countering that fact.

“Belarus would not exist on its own, you’ve read the CIA’s own writings on the matter, Russia is their supplier and demand. It is simply more advantageous for all to let it be thought of as independent. Ukraine would do far better to have a similar arrangement.”

“But that very nature keeps their economy down and gives Russia a huge ally in pressuring others…” Sharon’s starting to think that Marcus wants Russia to be able to do so.

“Exactly. Ah now you begin to see. “

“You have got to be kidding me”

“It is a good place here yes? The people are happy with Russia. You fit in nicely here, we could use the help, live here, do some trips to Ukraine…” He sips his coffee looking at her, like he’s not suggesting she flip sides completely and go from looking for weapons to transporting them.

And what is worse is that Sharon totally could see it. Her future was always uncertain, never the path her peers took, but here- here liking guns is normal, here with sweeping mountains and friendly people.

Marcus must sense her confliction for he stops waiting and continues “And what do you owe the USA anyway? Your friends killed, your trust betrayed? You gave 6 years of your life to SHIELD and they couldn’t bother keeping themselves loyal? Never respecting you. The CIA won’t be different, different politics maybe but still the same inside. Don’t you want a chance at revenge? Making some trouble for those you brushed you aside? Your friend, little Maxine with the motorbike? She wasn’t even on duty and they still failed to protect her – the helicarrier fell out of the sky and killed her.”

* * *

Sharon has heard these words before. Sharon’s thought these words herself. How could no one notice Hydra? How could SHIELD think itself above oversight and let it happen? But, it wasn’t over coffee with a side of vague threats– it was at funerals and in the grocery store, moments here and there. That overwhelming moment when she’d forgotten long enough to call Max’s cell and gotten her voicemail like a punch to the gut.  Sharon still hasn’t found an answer to them but Sharon had gone with CIA anyway. She had done her year at the Farm and been working all of a month at Washington when SHIELD had approached her formally.

Two vaguely familiar faces in a parking lot, Jemma and Leo they’d introduced themselves but not their backup who lingering just out of direct line of sight.  

“We just want to talk, come get a coffee with us  - we’ll make our pitch and you can get one of those muffin monstrosities you always liked” They had offered, friendly tone masking the subtle little reminders, digs, that SHIELD was a family who knew each other and looked out for each other, not the CIA’s shadow circus. But Sharon had been part of that family for 6 years, so she went.

It was weird giving her name at a Starbucks and watching someone scrawl it down on a cup. The CIA had one in their lobby (take that shitty SHIELD commissary coffee) but no one asked for names. Security risk. Backup was two ahead of them in line and then at a table facing, Sharon couldn’t shake the weird familiarity.

“SHIELD is back and operational. Coulson is directing now, he’s recovered from the Loki incident and an excellent director.” Thing one, Sharon means Jemma, cut straight to the point.

“We could use all the help possible. We appreciate your wanting to stay active, would look favorably on the time you spent with the CIA, you’d be reinstated at your previous rank if not higher.” Thing two is all earnest HR sounding phrases.

“That’s a nice offer but I am happy with my current employment and cannot say any further.” Sharon likes to think repeating stock CIA phrases is personal growth at masking all her emotions.

“Don’t you want to take revenge on Hydra? We’re going after the cells left, we need you taking them down. Don’t you want to avenge everyone who died? It’s Hydra’s fault they died, and if we don’t go after them who will?” Thing one demanded.

“I’m staying with my current employers.” CIA tone number four, slightly bored with low interest. Sharon gives herself bonus points for not countering that it’s at least partly SHIELDs fault for failing to notice the Hydra snake in the grass.

“Well, take some time to think about it – I’m sure once you think it over you’ll want to get in touch with us –“ and thing two is passing over a card, handwritten numbers on it. And then Sharon finally placed Agent Backup, she’d spent long enough with “Call me May, I’m retired” and they had the same eyes-

“Tell your backup she should call her mom more often”

And with that Sharon took her muffin with her and left them looking startled. Honestly, she had more training than them – did they really think she wouldn’t notice they had backup?

Even when you give something your all people still die. Arnold the tech had been paralyzed after a ricochet hit him in the spine, gotten pneumonia 3 months later and died. What if she had pushed his chair away harder, or maybe less hard? Why did some people die and some people live? There were no good answers to be found to those questions. Blame shield, blame hydra, blame herself, nothing would stop the endless replays of that terrible week in her head, some days she just got better at ignoring it. Days that didn’t involve people bringing it up point blank.

Back at the office Jeong had laughed at Sharon’s explanation for her longer than anticipated errand run. “Muffin for your loyalty? How is the civilian Starbucks?”

“Nowhere near as efficient as ours. Twice as many babies.” Sharon dropped stuff on her desk then went to go check in.

“I didn’t know we had any babies!” Jeong called after her.

Sharon had reported it to her superior, who also rolled his eyes “Keep this up and you can make an early entry to the times poached pool , we’ve got an astrophysicist the air force tried for years to get so you probably won’t beat the record but you could try for second. Anyway probie – what information did you get off them?”

“Coulson is officially the new director. They’re still focusing on Hydra targets over any other task, at least in their recruitment spiels. Personnel must be low for them to be making open recruitment pitches... Oh and I have a number to trace”

“Well, get on with it. Don’t forget to check downstairs this afternoon either.”

* * *

Here is the thing about Sharon that no one seems to understand – Sharon’s never been about revenge.

So she looks Marcus dead in the eye, tenses to run, gathers up what is left of her conviction and says  “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't this be a lovely cliff hanger? Full disclosure, I have nothing against Fitz Simmons, I've never seen agents of shield but clips of them make me laugh. Sharon's just in a grumpy place (she tends to live there).


	5. Here it goes again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for death, explosions, and a short chapter.

Marcus, predictably does not respond well to this statement. He pulls a gun, subtly but clear.

“Go ahead and shoot me, like that won’t raise a zillion red flags and bring the cops. Fuck, do you know how many times I’ve been shot at in the last two years? I’m not switching sides.”

“You’re going to get up, walk slowly to the alley. And then we’re going to go for a ride. Or I’m going to start shooting all these nice people eating their lunches.”

Sharon can do the odds, nothing good will come of going with Marcus, but at least that options involves less people getting shot, just her. Her options are super limited, on her she has her briefcase, a phone he called her on this morning, and all the usual backup weapons that every agent knows are standard. She’s got maybe some pocket lint he won’t be expecting but that is it. She gets up.

Sharon’s stuck in the back of a van for a short ride. He doesn’t blindfold her, she knows that is not a good sign. They end up at a warehouse, echoingly empty, up in what was once a manager’s office, a broken chair and desk, a calendar still on the wall.

“I know you did your little exploration trips. You know how few people come by the old district. So don’t think of doing anything stupid now. Drop your stuff on the table, all of it – I know what you have on ya”

Everything comes down to the one moment Sharon can make her move, it’s all or nothing, and right now with his gun steadily pointing at her, is not that moment. So she empties her pockets, unholsters her gun, dumps out the briefcase and lines it all up.

Marcus gathers it all up, tossing it into a plastic bag in his backpack.

“You’re going to stay here, nice and quiet, while I go wrap up some things. Think it over. You know how this path ends, you change your mind this doesn’t have to be the day you die.”

And then Marcus leaves. Leaving her in an empty room, with an empty desk and an empty briefcase. Sharon doesn’t breath, doesn’t move until as he locks the door behind him. He doesn’t know it’s anything more than a bag – he hasn’t seen the prototypes before.

“Make it work time.”

…

When he comes back she’s jimmied the door, shut it behind her and hidden behind a pole on the floor, right near the door. There is no cover to speak of but she just needs to get one clear shot.

Marcus walks in, gun loose in hand. Marcus walks past her. Sharon takes a deep breath, throws the case and ducks to the ground. It hits him right in the back and falls to the floor. There is a terrible moment when it feels as if the world is moving in slow motion and nothing happens, the case thudding into the ground, Marcus turning to fire at her. Sharon can barely breathe for this was her last possible plan and she’d really like to not die today, it has been a bad enough day without adding her death to it. Marcus is turning and firing blindly “What the fuck –“and then the case explodes beautifully.

Then the case explodes, -and dear God those chemicals really are unstable when mixed-, and it is all but over now and Sharon really can’t breathe because of all the smoke and debris flying about. The warehouse is on fire, the pillar went and the ceiling in coming down. Marcus is dead, eyes open and blank, half crispy, half crushed by the pillar.

And Sharon’s not even sure what she feels – adrenaline and anger and relief and the world is coming apart in fire around her. Up until he started firing at her she had had some part of her lingering hoping this was another test, another trial of loyalty, anything but another betrayal and shit show. And Sharon’s left staring at the burning rubble, “Seriously, did you know this was my 13th assignment? Everyone says 13 being unlucky is a whole bad reputation but I’m starting to think it is true.”


	6. She only smokes when she drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Subtitled 'This looks bad. New agent on the run, old one dead'.

She picks the second bar she sees. It is just as much of a dump at the first one was. She washed up in a public bathroom, stole a hoodie off a tourist stand. She still couldn’t pass in one of the nicer places. In a dive she’ll blend in.

 Tactically being around people right now is safe, unrelated she needs a drink. She is so screwed. She’s barely off probie, first real unsupervised mission and she just killed a senior operative. And she has minimal proof beyond her word of what happened.

“What’ll it be?” the barkeep looks uninterested in anything, dingy like his bar.

“A beer” Sharon knows better than to get drunk though, takes the beer for camouflage.

“Want a smoke?” the elderly man two stool down offers her “Its bad manners to smoke beside a woman and not offer” he adds when she starts to refuse.

She accepts the cigarette he offers, and mutters “God bless Belarus,” Sharon hasn’t smoked in a bar in almost ever. It’s a shitty menthol but it helps. “I’m going to figure out a plan. I’m giving myself the length of this cig to be mellow and then I’m pulling it together. Good pep talk.” Every resource she has, had he knows about it, she must assume it’s all compromised then- god even that lovely bed in her nice fake apartment. So then, she needs to take another phone and come in. Plan time.

Sharon doesn’t flirt back with any of the men that hit on her – she has no way of knowing if they’re honey trapping her on behalf of Mother Russia and the now dead Marcus. God, she is so in over her head.  Instead she sidles up to the bookish looking man lingering by the pool table, challenges him to a game. It goes well and before she can even hint that they go elsewhere he’s offering to have her come over for better vodka.

She waits until they’re inside his apartment, he starts pulling down full size glasses –

“No, little shot glasses like you Americans, eh?” He laughs and Sharon takes the time to examine the surroundings – he’s bookish for sure, books piled all over, well read. So she takes shots with him – and on the third round she calmly knocks him out. Sharon pours out most of the vodka down the drain, moves him to the bed, leaves the almost empty bottle on the end table. It’s the work of minutes to mess the room a little, leave a kiss stain on his mirror – he’ll assume he blacked out and was lucky, it’ll make a nice story for him – the American who turned down all the men in the bar for want of him and Sharon figures it’s a nice enough apology for knocking him out, borrowing his phone for long distance, and quite possibly stealing some money – she hasn’t got that far yet in her plans.

The phone in the corner is the oldest decrepit landline ever. But it shows no signs of bugs and Sharon blesses her farm teacher as she types out the many digit code, the backup to the backup line to the CIA for unsecured lines

“Hey Mom – you would not believe the Saturday I am having. I am in so much shit”


	7. Ooh Child, Someday things will get brighter

The cleanup is inevitable and mostly not her problem. The unsecured line tells her to stay off grid and make her way back toward the UK, preferably in a non-direct manner, they’ll take care of the burnt warehouse and other loose ends. At least, that’s what they said if Sharon’s interpreting “Come home for lasagna next week, don’t bring a salad but do bring garlic bread” correctly. She takes a cab from the nearest street, to a bus station where she buys a ticket she won’t use and then walks a mile to a train stop. 

“I wonder if anyone’s ever misdialed that number and gotten a wrong number and then followed completely bizarre instructions” Sharon muses aloud as she waits for the next car to try hitchhiking with. It is a full day later and she’s somewhere in Poland at this point, wondering if she should try for a boat to Sweden or keep going east by car into Germany. On her second day of travel, she gains a companion, Agent Jeremy from the London office.

“Right toss up you’ve landed in here.” Jeremy greets her, and he debriefs informally as they go, says she’ll do the more formal once she’s back in the office. He seems to enjoy the bizarre transit options, gleefully riding in the truck bed with the sheep.  “I’m stuck at a desk in London most days” he explains to her look of derision.

It takes a total of five days to get to London from Belarus, including six countries and very little sleep. Sharon gets to shower before the official debrief thankfully. It seems that even CIA agents have their limits on what smells they’d sit in an interrogation room with. It goes better than she would have guessed, it turns out the higher ups had already expected Marcus to be going rotten, granted not on this scale but along these lines. They were waiting for him to do something decisive. And it turns out trying to kill a fellow agent counts as decisive, who knew? Most of the debrief focuses on what she could have done differently, and to what outcomes that might have achieved. It ends with a bizarre quiz on details from her journey home – “How many sheep were in the truck?”, “How many tourists were on the boat deck?”. Sharon’s not even sure they know the answers – it is more of a lesson in observe everything than any test of sleep deprivation skills.

Sharon looks for Jeremy afterwards, to thank him for the help (and possibly ask him if he remembers how many sheep) but he’s already gone again. “He didn’t tell you? He’s assigned to Belarus for the cleanup – and to be the replacement for Marcus until things get sorted. You’ve a flight back to the US in 3 hours.” The admin at desk informs her.

 

Sharon sleeps the entire flight back to the US. Check in at DC headquarters goes smoothly, she’s off for seven days then has to check back for next assignments. Most of her friends from training are off on their own tasks. Down in the tech division Jason Eames corners her, giving her the most betrayed look when she admits she blew up the briefcase mass spec after hitting someone with it.

“That is not the intended purpose of that most delicate equipment!”

“It got the job done?” she offers.

“I guess now I can say ‘I told you’ about the stability concerns”

 Sharon decides discretion is the better part of valor and not admit that it took quite some doing to get it to explode.

Her apartment smells like mildew when she gets home. Her neighbors are still fighting at odd hours. She misses her assignment apartment already. Her life falls back into routine fairly easily, complete with a SHIELD recruitment representative finding her on her way to the grocery store. It’s Sam Wilson this time, inviting her for pastries.

 “Come on, I’ll trade you Steve stories for danishes, we waste an afternoon and everyone goes home happy” Sam offers.

“Not going to try and sway me? Offer revenge, better perks?” Sharon can’t help but needle.

“Honey, I work with vets, you find something that gets you through, you stick to it. It’s unhealthy to obsess. I just want to charge Stark for overpriced muffins”

“Tell that to Steve - I’ve heard the rumors about him and an amnesiac assassin.”

“God, they both need so much therapy. And that is not me volunteering.”

Somehow afternoon bakery visit turns into happy hour drinks – Sam is by far the best person SHIELD has sent to bring her back yet. Probably by the fact that SHIELD hasn’t been mentioned once. It might be the rum talking but Sharon’s pretty sure she has a new friend.

“So my friend and I used to have this bet – about Steve and what he was ya know into. No way to collect on it-“ and damn someday that burn will hurt less of Max being gone “ but I gotta ask any inside knowledge?”

“Which way did you bet?”

“Bisexual. She had straight”

“I don’t know for sure – but when I met him he was outright flirty I can tell you that”

Sharon waves her arms in exasperation “You’ve got fine biceps, I will admit. But Steve does that sometimes and I think he may have just been enjoying that he could flirt – not that he really wanted it to go anywhere.”

“But then the whole Bucky obsession would be so much more meaningful!”

“Timeless lovers!”

“All they need is a Tardis! And it’d be a doctor who”

“My god. You have to get Steve in a fez. Do it for the Whovians”

“Maybe I’ll get Stark to – or Barton. They’re better at that.” Sam looks far too amused at the prospect.

Their night out ends amicably, with trading numbers and Sam promising to invite her to join his VA friends on their next night out, promising normality “with no superhero’s allowed, not even your ex-neighbor. Yeah, I heard that story.”

“Better watch out Sam, my job has rumors you’ll be disinvited in that case.”

 “Will that mean I have to trade in my folks for a tragic backstory too?” Sam quips. “I could clean up my apartment some, you would not believe the crap they forget there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam!!


	8. The London Eye

The rest of Sharon’s month is more boring. The highlight is when Sharon gets an assignment to go back out to the Farm. She’s imparting the next class with wisdom about Hydra but it is depressing and dull. Shooting off bazooka’s late night at the range is enjoyable though.

“I’ll be your instructor this morning, and we’re going to be talking a little about Hydra and more about recognizing what your enemy is projecting. You’ve covered some of the major events already this week.” 20 faces stare back at her. She was sitting in those seats less than two years ago. Sharon wonders if her instructors didn’t introduce themselves by name not because of CIA secrets but because it is easier to face a roomful of people when they have no way to find you afterwards. Sharon shakes off the thought and keeps going.

 “This is a image of Hyrda’s logo. What’s the first thing you should notice?”

 “That it’s an octopus?” Someone calls out from the back.

 “Asking or telling? Always be convincing in your answers. If you’re lying you have reason to be nervous, if your covers real you’d not be. Be Joe Schmoe the idiot if you have to but don’t be Joe the twitchy guy who sticks out. Also, being an idiot will get you far more open doors than you’d expect.”

 “It’s an octopus.” Someone else tries. “Hydra’s have one body with many heads, octopus’s have one head many tails.”

 “Octopi” someone with Latin training mutters.

 “So what do we think? Did someone way high up make a really stupid error? Or is it something deliberate?” Sharon challenges the room.

 “To make us underestimate them? I mean – To make us underestimate.”

 “But there’s no guarantee we’d notice it so it’s a risky play. Who can sum up tactically the difference between an octopus and a hydra in a fight? Second row give it a shot.”

 The girl she has pointed at looks panicked but goes for it. “Well, the hydra are powerful enemies in mythology because they’re hard to wound. Usually they guard, they’re mostly stationary, too many heads to steer the body. But you can keep knocking off heads and more will just come back so it’s effective. Octopus’s are more solitary, they move fast, I saw a video of one fitting in a coke bottle once?”

 The guy next to her picks it up “I saw one do undue a padlock and escape its tank! Creative little things, and fast. And some can camouflage!”

 “So if you were wanting to strike hard, rapidly in many different places and still be effective which animal’s better? The octopus, hands down. So now we’ve got two facts – underestimate us, we hide and strike fast. Who can see the third?” She pauses to let them think. No one comes up with it.

 “What’s the difference between a head and a tail?”

 “Intelligence.”

 “Right. So which does hydra operate under? Not heads, they’re treating their lower ranking agents are disposable, no one can tell you who else is Hydra, it’s all secrets. So many tails not many heads. So is Hydra’s logo a silly mistake or is it a multi-layered insight to how they see their organization and how they operate? You can’t say. Maybe the head of hydra is subconsciously aware of it and wants to feed his ego at leading hydra, one special head to control the massive organization.

 As agents your job will be to look for these insights everywhere. Finding them won’t be hard, but deciding what information is useful will be. I’ve led you to a couple conclusions but you could make a dozen more useless ones. Hydra are thought to be poisonous in some myths, Octopuses are delicious and can be cooked many ways, and therefore maybe the new reemergence of hydra is targeting the food supplies. Maybe they thought no one would recognize the many heads creature and this was easier. Maybe the discount uniform store couldn't easily make the hydra logo fit. ”

* * *

Excitingly, fourteen days later her assignment is to take another week then report to London, where she should expect to be for several months, and even better it’s not classified. This time she boxes up her apartment and puts it into storage.

London is enjoyable despite its dreary weather. She’s got normal hours leaving her plenty of time to explore the city, spends the rainy days rediscovering British television. Doctor Who is even more popular over here. Sharon amuses herself by sending pictures of bizarre doctor who things to Sam.

To Sam (23:45pm)

You’ll never guess what I saw today

To Sharon (18:46)

Another police box?

To Sam (23:47)

A full size dalek in a store! Just hanging out.

 

To Sharon (17:30)

Double decker buses – reality or movie?

To Sam (0:31)

Reality

 

To Sharon (7:00)

Tony swears that British pancakes are eaten with just sugar and lemon. He’s just messing with Steve again right?

To Sam (12:00)

No, that’s a thing. More like crepes too. If you send me real maple syrup in bulk I’ll tell you about how long it took Tony’s butler to potty train him.

To Sharon (7:15)

 

 To Sam (13:15)

Check it out! Street they filmed Sherlock on. 221B is not actually 221B.

To Sharon (8:17)

The hell? Sherlock is like horse and carriages and that creepy actor who looks like Tony.

To Sam (13:18)

Google BBC version.

To Sharon (8:05)

Your binging your Netflix queue again aren’t ya?

 

* * *

 But some days it grates on her, London a little too bustling. Sharon wonders sometimes about Grandma and Great Aunt Peggy, and how the city must have looked to them as kids.

 Sharon goes in each day to M15. Her position is liasoning with M15: one part learning M15 operations, one part teaching CIA back at them, one part busy work (add ice and mix well). It’s not a long term position, and Sharon’s not sure what she’ll end up doing. CIA presence in London is usually very limited. Her only after hours assignments right now are language classes – she’s mastering what feels like almost every dialect of Russian.

Sharon’s reporting to M15 for training when she literally runs into Calum, her cousin’s husband.

“Does Jim know you work for M15?” she can’t help but ask.

“Did Jim know you were SHIELD and now CIA?” he replies, “He knows I’m government and can’t talk about it. It’s safer that way. Let’s just ring him up and claim we ran into each other getting coffee.”

They all have dinner together, and as they leave Sharon tells Calum to look up Jim’s step Grandma in the files.

* * *

The next day is even more enjoyable, as she gets to meet M16’s Q branch, and they have a bunch of new toys for her, including a modified and improved briefcase analyzer.

“Let’s see you blow that one up” The tech challenges her. Sharon starts to apologize (and God, who is still gossiping about that, CIA keeps secrets her ass) but then another tech who looks way too young in a sweater rushes over –

“No don’t blow that one up! That’s the briefcase analyzer, you imbecile. The exploding briefcases have the notched handles”

“Can I get one of those too?” Sharon can’t help but ask.

* * *

Jeremy is still out at Belarus but he emails her frequently, sometimes in code sometimes not. He’s busy being the CIA point man for Russia operations. Things are heating up with Russia being more and more obvious in its attacks on Ukraine. Though, in his last email he’d let slip that he would be back in London within a year.

From Jeremey

JLinus@gmail.com

 

Hey,

Try punching the left corner of the coffee machine that sometimes fixes it. I swear the Brits might be sabotaging it. Tea is not better than coffee! Rumor has it that some of the bigwigs of the British government do drink coffee.

Blew up 3 tanks this week, bet you’ve never gotten to do that. Though, when I was at the Farm we did have this one crazy instructor, he was obsessed with explosives. You might have had him too, favors a bazooka over a handgun?

JL

 

From spammer@aol.com

Subj- Enhace your x size today

Eat more vegetables. Do you remember that time with the sheep? Got to visit that place again. Looks even better in late fall. Can’t imagine what it will look like in spring.

Sir Spam-a-lot

 

From [SuperSecretSpy@gmail.com](mailto:SuperSecretSpy@gmail.com)

Subj –Re Sheep

Are you going to be working there that long enough to see spring? I hear winter is frightful there. We used to have decent snowstorms in DC.

SC

 

From [JLinus@gmail.com](mailto:JLinus@gmail.com)

Subject: Re:re:sheep

They’re training up my replacement now. Probably be another 6-8 months or so, then back to the good old London. I miss civilized tea breaks. And the tube. Never thought I’d say that, but was taking a bus the other day and it broke down. Nearest shop was 15 miles away, it was dreadful.

JL

* * *

It’s a rare sunny Sunday in London when Sharon phones home for real this time, things have been a little strained with her mom, she’d hoped Sharon would maybe settle down after the disaster that was SHIELD, not take another dangerous career.

“Hey mama, it’s Sharon. You’ll never guess where I am for work right now, great aunt Peg is going to be so jealous. Uh huh. Yes. I already saw Jim and Calum, they’re doing well – Calum really likes his job. Jim’s adapting to being in one place pretty well... ”

Fade to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once upon a time this was a oneshot but it ran away from me. Prompt was Sharon at the CIA, and it turned into why did Sharon go to CIA and not rejoin SHIELD, or even quit the game altogether and open her own gun range (I’m totally writing that someday btw). How did Sharon handle all the fall of SHIELD, where does she end up? And then the whole Peggy question, is she a mini-Peggy, who was Peggy to her? Because you usually don’t get to see those sides of your parents and grandparents. 
> 
> I own nothing, except the overabundance of original characters needed to fill the gaps to tell Sharon’s story. You win bonus points if you spotted all the additional fandoms lurking in the background. Thanks for reading! VB.


End file.
